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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219390">A Winter's Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossflower_17/pseuds/Mossflower_17'>Mossflower_17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flesh and Stone Mini-Fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Snow Day, Thorin is a Softie, Winter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:21:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossflower_17/pseuds/Mossflower_17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A small glimpse of life in Erebor during the chilly wintry days.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Bofur, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thorin Oakenshield/Ithilrian Tinnulenath, Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Flesh and Stone Mini-Fics [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Chilly Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An extra dose of Thorin/Ithil cute for anyone still invested in this pairing! </p><p>Love Mossie x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a bright, cold dawn that broke over Erebor’s snowy peak on the first day of winter. A thick, veiling frost had smothered the mountain’s lower slopes, so from a distance Erebor looked like a fairy-tale spire carved entirely from glimmering crystal.</p><p>Fortunately for those who dwelt within the mountain, the heat from the deep-seated dwarven furnaces was enough the keep the interior citadel blessedly warm. Few years had passed since the Death of the Dragon, and Erebor was still playing host to a variety of elves and men, as well as dwarves. The reconstruction of Dale was almost complete; still, many of the former Lakemen had opted to winter in the Lonely Mountain, taking advantage of the balmy temperatures before moving fully into the city in the coming spring.</p><p>This morning, Ithilrian found herself feeling particularly grateful for the simple comfort of the mountain’s warmth. Before coming to live in Erebor, she had always imagined the Lonely Mountain to be a dark, cold, and foreboding place, honeycombed with dim passages lit by flickering torchlight, its vast open halls beautiful but filled with the quiet chill of a stone tomb. And while the mountain had been the abode of Smaug, perhaps that had been the case. But once the great battle with Azog and his orc armies was over, and Erebor had been resettled, Ithilrian had been astonished at just how bright, warm, and homely the Lonely Mountain had become. Gone were the dim tunnels and encroaching shadows; gone were the smoking torches and cold, empty halls. Instead, Erebor came… alive. Bright crystal lamps illuminated the grand halls, throwing dazzling light as bright as day across the vast, open spaces. The glossy green of Erebor’s natural stone, finely veined with glimmering gold, put Ithilrian in mind of young holly leaves, and the rich warmth of an autumnal forest.</p><p>Strange, she thought to herself, to compare a mountain to a forest. One a tower of unfeeling stone; the other, a palace of a thousand living trees. But while Erebor might be a kingdom of stone instead of living wood, there was no doubt about it: this place, somehow, was alive. Whether it was the constant hum of voices that put her in mind of the whisper of wind among the trees; the deep, slow thrum of the dwarven forges that felt so much like a beating heart; or simply the warmth with which she and all other races had been welcomed into the dwarven kingdom.</p><p>‘What are you thinking about, Ithilrian?’</p><p>She smiled, feeling the familiar warmth of Thorin at her side as the dwarf king pressed against her, slipping an arm around her waist. They were standing on the balcony in Ithilrian’s chambers, one of the only places in Erebor that opened to the outside air.</p><p>‘Nothing much, my heart,’ she replied. ‘I am simply grateful for the mountain’s warmth these chilly days. The light outside grows bright and cold, and the grey clouds gather. We may see snow before too long.’</p><p>‘We have seen winters in Erebor harder than this. Our food stores are good, our kitchens are well supplied, and the forges well stocked with fuel in case we are snowed in, and trade routes are cut. There is nothing for you to fret about.’ Thorin glanced up at his wife, giving her waist a small, comforting squeeze. ‘What ails you?’</p><p>‘I’m just thinking, that’s all. About times passed, places we have seen, people who are no longer with us.’ She glanced down at her husband fondly. ‘I wonder how Bilbo and Bofur are getting along, whether the snows of winter have reached the Shire yet.’</p><p>Thorin huffed a small breath of laughter. ‘No doubt they’re as cozy as two snails in a single shell. If Bofur’s last letter was anything to go by, it sounds like Shire life suits him.’</p><p>‘Indeed, and I am glad of it. They have both earned a quiet life. I’m only glad the hobbit folk have been as accepting of Bofur as your people have been of me.’ She leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of her husband’s head, before shivering as a chill wind whipped around them, bringing a small flurry of snowflakes from Erebor’s chilly peak.</p><p>‘Come, step back into the warmth,’ said Thorin, tugging lightly at his wife to come inside. ‘Elves are not as hardy as dwarves, after all.’ A flicker of mirth twinkled in those wonderful blue eyes as he held out a soft-looking, unfamiliar robe. ‘Wrap yourself up, my heart, lest you blow away like a leaf on the breeze…’</p><p>‘Impudent dwarf,’ Ithilrian laughed. Still, she allowed her husband to drape the new robe around her shoulders. It was snowy white and incredibly warm. ‘Where did this come from?’ she added, touching the material wonderingly. ‘Thorin, have you felt this? It’s exquisite!’</p><p>‘Good.’ She watched Thorin’s face crease into a proud smile at his wife’s reaction. ‘It’s a one-off, special commission by the Guild of Weavers and Tailors. They’ve come up with a new way to spin goat hair, so that it becomes this exceptionally fine, soft thread that has the warmth of heavy wool. Dori wanted you to test the first prototype and give it your royal seal of approval.’</p><p>She touched the material again, stroking one hand down the sleeve. ‘And he can have it,’ she replied. ‘This is a wonder, Thorin. Never let it be said that the skill of dwarves is with metal and stone alone. Your people are marvels.’</p><p>‘Our people,’ he corrected her gently; yet Ithilrian could see the colour rush into his cheeks, pride in the skill and craftsmanship of his race. ‘Come, let us see what the day holds for us, Ithilrian. If nothing else, tell Dori what you think of his creation, so they can begin production in earnest. No doubt he’ll puff up like a peacock at the paise; and be entirely insufferable for days.’</p><p>Ithilrian laughed. ‘I don’t doubt it. But if he can make some more of these wonderful robes, it’ll be worth it.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The First Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the first snows of winter begin to fall over Erebor, and Kili gets a little excited...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>An extra dose of Thorin/Ithil cute for anyone still invested in this pairing! Donate at www.patreon.com/Mossflower_17 to help support my writing, and for early access to new fics. :)</p>
<p>Love Mossie x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Much of the rest of Ithilrian’s day was taken up by her regal duties. There was a long line of people waiting for a Royal Audience, queuing right out of the throne room and through the antechamber, into the hallway outside. Some were dwarven nobles, vying for favour; others were craftsmen or traders, asking for royal investment in new ventures; and some were simple ordinary folk in need of help. Ithilrian and Thorin did their best to see all comers fairly, and give them each their due time; but by noon both were exhausted, and in need of a rest.</p>
<p>Ithilrian had worn her new robe all day, revelling in the softness and warmth of the delicate fabric. Everything about it had been hand-tailored to her, from the colour to the wide, sweeping sleeves, to the intricate silver embroidery around the neck and hem. It had drawn several admiring glances already, and Ithilrian had already made several mental notes regarding further designs. She had planned to visit the Guild of Weavers and Tailors after lunch, but her rest was interrupted.</p>
<p>‘Auntie Ithil! <i>It’s snowing!!!’</i></p>
<p>Kili came barrelling into the Royal Chambers, trailing slush and melting snow from his boots, laughing fit to burst. Close on his heels was Tauriel, looking both fond and exasperated in equal measure. Ithilrian couldn’t help but notice the flecks of snow already glinting in the sylvan elf’s long auburn hair.</p>
<p>‘It snows every year, Kili. This is nothing unusual.’ Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose in mock-frustration, trying and failing to hide a smile.</p>
<p>‘Well yeah, but this is the first snow day this year!’ Kili bounced on his heels excitedly. ‘We have to at least go out and look at it, Uncle! It’s traditional!’</p>
<p>Tauriel shook her head, her beautiful face sparkling with mirth. ‘One would think you’ve never seen snow before, Kili, with how excited you are about it. Yet we live in a mountain capped with a permanent snowy peak…?’</p>
<p>In reply, Kili simply stuck out his tongue, before looking imploringly up at Ithilrian. ‘Come on, Aunty Ithil, please…?’</p>
<p>‘Of course.’ Ithilrian stood tall in a sweep of glimmering robes, grinning mischievously. ‘How on earth could I deny my sweet young nephew such a heartfelt request.’ She glanced pointedly at Thorin, before grabbing her fur-lined winter cloak and clasping it firmly around her shoulders. ‘Come, show me this new snowfall. Today marks the first true day of winter, after all. It would be terribly rude not to step into the wide world and greet the new season.’</p>
<p>Thorin groaned in feigned exasperation. ‘Very well, I am with you.’</p>
<p>It wasn’t long before all four of them were standing outside the front gates, faced with a remarkable sight. It seemed they weren’t the only ones who had stepped outside for a moment’s respite. Several elves, men and dwarves were standing beneath the grey sky, staring and pointing excitedly at the gentle fall of white. Ithilrian smiled to see some of the Lakemen bringing out small wooden sledges, followed by their excited children. She nudged Kili.</p>
<p>‘They’ve got the right idea. Look!’ She watched a child toboggan halfway down the white slope of the eastern side of the Erebor valley, whooping in delight, before falling off and rolling the rest of the way.</p>
<p>‘That’s brilliant. Aunty, we should see about making some… argh!’</p>
<p>Unnoticed by any of them, Fili had snuck up on his younger brother, and stuffed a fistful of cold snow down the back of his neck. Kili writhed and shrieked, hopping about to try and fish out the icy sludge, while Fili roared with laughter. Ithilrian was forced to cover her mouth with her hand, trying not to look undignified as she was overcome with laughter.</p>
<p>‘You little – I’ll get you for that!’ Kili spluttered in outrage, before scooping up a double-handful of fallen snow and chasing the blond dwarf, who took off like a scalded hare. Both brothers were evenly matched in speed across the slippery valley, and the chase quickly descended into an all-out snowball fight. Before long it wasn’t just Fili and Kili, but almost every elf, man and dwarf in the vicinity had been drawn in. It turned into a truly epic battle, with the dwarves furiously piling up snow into rudimentary battlements to hide behind and using flexible fallen pine branches as catapults to launch their snowballs further. While on the other side of the valley, Tauriel had marshalled what remained of the elven guard into three ranks, each hurling a snowball with devastating accuracy before falling back, allowing the next rank to step forward and throw theirs, then falling back; allowing time for the first rank to construct fresh snowballs, ready to throw by the time their turn came again.</p>
<p>Even the King and Queen themselves were not spared the hardships of this particular battle. Ithilrian was swiftly roped in by Tauriel, and the grey elf needed no further excuse to begin rolling snowballs and hurling them at anything that moved. Her grey eyes were soon glittering with wild delight, and quickly she became pink-cheeked and breathless with laughter. Likewise, Thorin was drawn in on the dwarven side of the conflict, manning the snowy battlements beside Dwalin, who had come outside to see what all the fuss was about. Very soon the two veteran warriors were bellowing war cries and hurling chunks of snow with merry abandon, all thoughts dignity and position forgotten.</p>
<p>The battle only ended when dusk began descending on the Lonely Mountain, painting the valley in soft shades of lilac and dusty crimson as the sun began to dip below the western horizon. Both sides were persuaded to disarm by the promise of hot food, mulled wine, and a crackling fire in the great hall. All were shivering, frozen, soaked to the bone, and grinning fit to burst. Thorin found Ithilrian and swept her into his arms, uncaring of who was looking on, lifting the elf clean off her feet. Ithilrian in turn planted a sweet kiss on her husband’s nose, laughing giddily.</p>
<p>‘Hail, soggy King under the Mountain,’ she grinned. ‘Your nose is cold!’</p>
<p>‘So is yours.’ Thorin chuckled. ‘Ithilrian, you’re soaked through! What in Durin’s name were you doing?’</p>
<p>‘Look who’s talking.’ Ithilrian prodded her husband in the chest. Her finger squelched where it hit the wet leather. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.’</p>
<p>‘I like the sound of that.’ Thorin grinned impishly as he followed his wife up to the Royal Apartments. The warmth of the mountain welcomed them like an embrace, and it was with a sigh of relief that Ithilrian was able to remove her sodden robes.</p>
<p>‘What is that?’ she asked, noticing a large parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with a strip of white silk sitting on her bedside table.</p>
<p>‘You’ll have to open it, and find out.’ Thorin grinned from where he was struggling out of his soaking wet boots and socks.</p>
<p>‘Hmm. This seems mightily suspicious.’ Ithilrian shook her head, laughing softly as the paper wrapping fell away, to reveal a fresh set of robes in that same wonderful, soft weave that she’d received that very morning. This set, however, was the loveliest pale blue in colour, with a delicate patterning of silver thread running through the fine fabric. Along the collar and cuffs had been laid embroidered flowers in white and silver, as well as a row of tiny, cunningly-sewn diamonds. They glittered in the light as Ithilrian lifted the garment in wonder, amazed once again by the exquisite dwarven craftsmanship.</p>
<p>‘Thorin, this is… I thought you said they’d only made the one?’</p>
<p>Her husband smiled broadly. ‘They had, this morning. After I saw how much you loved that white one, I sent a note to Dori. He had the pattern cut and ready; it didn’t take him long to sew the parts together. He said that he knew you’d like the colour…’</p>
<p>‘Like it? Thorin, it’s beautiful. I adore it, almost as much as I adore you. Thank you, <i>veleth nîn.’</i> She slipped on a simple gown of silvery grey, before carefully settling the robe over the top, eager to show off the garment’s full beauty.</p>
<p>‘Dori was right. It’s your colour.’ Thorin had changed into a complimentary outfit of sky blue and slate grey, and was now watching his wife with misty eyes. ‘It reminds me of when I saw you… in Mirkwood, do you remember? You went to change out of your travelling clothes, and wore a dress of the same hue. I thought you were simply… the most beautiful creature in all creation. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall in love with you sooner.’ </p>
<p>Ithilrian smiled warmly, cupping her husband’s cheek and touching her forehead to his with infinite tenderness. ‘I cannot make the same claim, for I loved you the moment I laid eyes on your sweet face,’ she murmured, her voice silvery with gentle laughter. ‘It seems so long ago, Thorin. Yet still you make my heart sing, with every passing day.’</p>
<p>‘Then let us not waste any of the time that is given to us.’ Thorin squeezed her hands gently, pulling her into a gentle kiss. ‘Come, my queen. They are waiting for us.’</p>
<p>‘Then we will not disappoint.’ Ithilrian smiled, swirling her warm, glimmering robe elegantly around her and taking her husband’s arm, before descending into the warm, loving heart of the Lonely Mountain: her home. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>An extra dose of Thorin/Ithilrian cuteness for you all! I hope everyone enjoyed the snowball fight. It's been so warm here in the UK over July, I find myself missing winter! Find more of the same on my Patreon page, www.patreon.com/Mossflower_17 if you want early access to new fics/access to Patreon-Only fics. </p>
<p>Love Mossie :) xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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